Sparring Practice
by mon-ange22
Summary: Clary begins her training in Idris, but gets suspended from fighting demons almost immediately. Jace provokes her to spar with him instead. Yay for fight scenes! Post City of Glass.
1. The Angel's Blade

**I wanted a Jace/Clary fight scene, so here it is! Post City of Glass. Alas, none of these characters are mine, with the exception of the hated Giles Greentree.**

**This is my first fanfic, so please review!**

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Clary dripped with sweat, forward and backslashing the practice column with her seraph blade. She was practicing after hours in one of the many Weapons Rooms in Idris, venting her frustration of a slab of onyx.

It was not so much that the long hours of sparring practices and her studies were taking a toll. No, the restrictions placed on her by the Council were starting to wear on her nerves. While the Clave had been all but annihilated during Valentine's war, many of the Councilmembers continued to uphold the "proper" restrictions that dictate shadowhunter training.

Her instruction—to her intense embarrassment—had begun with the newly marked 12-year-old children in Idris. The Council's justification was that she needed to start at the beginning, since she had had no formal education.

With a smirk, she thought back to her first sparring practice. This activity ended with five young shadowhunters pinned to the wall by the wide variety of throwing knives available in the Weapons Room.

With a sigh, she recollected the outcome of that stunt, which landed her in her current predicament. No group training. No demon hunting. And no new marks without the approval of her Tutor.

"Tutor," she scoffed to herself, slashing at the column, "more like a babysitter."

Giles Greentree was assigned to ensure that she was "thoroughly instructed on the strictures of the Law." Greentree spent more time forcing her to read books with gripping titles like _The Compendium of Shadowhunter Law: Past to Present_ than teaching her anything practical, like how to hunt demons.

And hunting demons was exactly where she wanted to be right now. The Lightwoods were called away to a demon infestation outside of Idris and would be gone for the night. Again. Jace would be gone until tomorrow. She huffed in anger and slashed at the column again.

"Jace is probably hacking the goo out of demons right now," she growled to herself bitterly.

Eventually, Clary lowered her blade, and released the angel energy. Slowing her breath, she allowed the exhaustion from the day to overtake her. She examined her arms, and noted that the endurance runes on her hands had faded. The scars on her arms had begun to crisscross, but were nowhere near as lined as Jace's or Isabelle's. And they wouldn't be for a long time, because she could not add new marks until she had more "proper" training.

That was the _wrong_ thing to think. Now she was exhausted _and_ pissed. Letting out a huff, she angrily began to stalk to the washroom.

"I'm surprised you haven't banished that practice column back to the fifth dimension," a languidly arrogant voice remarked from behind her.

Startled, Clary flew around to see Jace leaning up against the doorframe of the Weapons Room. His hair was windblown and he was still in his demon hunting gear, looking ever like a highly amused destroying angel.

"Jace, how long have you been standing in that doorway," Clary snapped. Her heart picked up at the sight of him, inked and fully armed, but she was not in the mood for a smartass.

"Oh, maybe a column or three. I thought you would have carved a _David_ by now." His eyes glinted and he pushed off the doorframe to join her in the room.

Letting out a sigh, Clary sat down on the stone floor and allowed him to pull up next to her. He still smelled like the night. As he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close, she put her head on her knees and squeezed her eyes shut in exhaustion.

"Were the demons biting tonight?" Clary quipped lightly, trying to reign in her frustrations from the day.

"We hooked four, but it wasn't much of a sport. Isabelle had most of them strung up by their tentacles and beheaded before it could get too exciting."

"At least you beheaded something. I swear I'm going to behead a Councilmember or two if they keep me locked up in this godforsaken place much longer."

"Why, such a disrespectful thing to say about the Law! I really would have expected much more of you, Clarissa Fairchild," Jace mocked in a reproving tone, imitating with irritating accuracy the high nasal voice of Tutor Greentree.

"Ugh!" Clary shoved Jace over and pushed up off the ground. She heard his light laughter as she marched to the washroom. "Jace, you so don't want to mess with me right now."

"I don't?" The playful challenge in his voice stopped her short.

"No," she growled. She could imagine his tawny eyes gleaming wickedly from behind her.

"_Zuriel_," she heard him purr, like a lion baiting its mate.

Clary took a deep breath and closed her eyes, relaxing her shoulders. The smooth metal of the seraph blade was still in her hand. She knew she was still no match for Jace in combat, in part because of the limitations they'd placed her marks. She felt anger ripple like heat down her arms. Pent up frustration coursed through her blood and lit her tired muscles on fire.

Eyes still closed, she pictured her "tutor," and smiled.

"_Ramiel!_" The angel's name exploded from her mouth as she swung her blade up and whipped around in one motion to meet Jace's blade. The blades pulsed with white light and sparked when they clashed in midair.

Jace met her blow for blow as they sparred across the floor, his eyes taunting her as he flicked and blocked each blow. The runes on his arms blurred around her strikes with amazing speed.

"Show off," she growled, and abruptly changed tactics.

Feinting forward, she forced him to block her strike, and pushed all her weight against the clashed blades to force him back. Jace's eyes flew open in surprise and he stumbled a step backwards. Clary grabbed a bola from her belt with her free hand. She had an acute proficiency with throwing weapons and rarely missed her mark.

Smiling, Clary whipped the bola around her head and launched it at Jace's weapon hand. Jace dodged the throw at the last moment and laughed, "You throw like a _girl_." He readied himself to pounce again.

Clary's smile grew wider. She knew she was next to a closet full of knives, throwing stars, bolas, and chains. "You're right, let a _girl_ show you how it's done," and she immediately began launching all the artillery within reach at Jace's approaching attack.

Jace began deflecting the deluge of flying objects with his blade, grunting as he was bombarded with a kitchen sink's worth of chains and sharp pointy objects.

Seeming to realize that Clary wasn't going to run out of ammo any time soon, Jace dove towards a table to take refuge.

Taking advantage of his momentary vulnerability, Clary whipped a bola at his ankles, catching his legs together and sending him soaring into a spectacular bellyflop under the weapons table.

"Score!" Clary cheered, and was rewarded with a grunt as he smacked into the ground.

"I don't think you'll be scoring for a month after that," Jace groaned, rolling onto his side.

Finally chuckling herself, Clary slid next to him under the table. "What, you don't have a thing for bondage? I thought we were onto something there."

Jace pushed a loose curl out of her face and kissed her forehead. "Thanks be to the Angel for healing runes."

Clary smiled and relaxed her head on Jace's arm, the tension from the day finally dissipating. They were both sweaty from exertion and the cool stones felt wonderful on her skin.

"The Clave should keep you locked indoors. You're clearly too much of a beast to be walking alongside humanity," Jace teased.

Groaning now herself, Clary pushed Jace onto his back and pinned him to the ground. "I win. So shut up for once and kiss me."

Laughing softly, Jace flicked his blade to free his legs, broke Clary's hold, and pinned her onto her back. "Haven't you heard? I always win. But I'll still let you kiss me."

"Bast..." But Jace's mouth gently kissed her bottom lip to smother the profanity, blocking all her means of verbal retaliation. Sighing in defeat, she laced her fingers through his hair and held him close, kissing him gently once, and he kissed her back twice with urgency.

Realizing where they were with a jolt, Clary broke away from Jace's lips. "Jace, I'm sure there's a Law that prohibits you from taking me on the Weapons Room floor."

"Taking you where?" he replied, his wickedly glinting eyes widening with innocence.

"Let's get out of here before I spend my adult life fighting inanimate objects," Clary muttered, rolling out from under the table and pushing to her feet.

Jace stood up next to her with a sigh, and let out a low whistle as he surveyed the wreckage in the room. Knives were embedded in the door, shelves were broken, and the floor was littered with weapons. He turned to Clary with his most charming smile.

"Since I won, you get to clean up this place."

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**This is my first fanfic. Let me know what you think!**


	2. As if Through a Mirror Dimly

**Thanks for your reviews! This chapter is dedicated to getting Jace's shirt off. Enjoy!**

**Cassandra Clare owns these characters -- I just help them torment each other :-D**

**Music: "Australia" by The Shins  
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**(Sorry for spamming you folks with reader alerts. My computer is irritable...)**

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Clary opened her eyes to a slice of blue sky peeping out from behind her window shade.

_Saturday. _Clary smiled. _Finally. _Maybe she could get a few hours with Jace, alone. She stretched her arms above her head.

"Ugggh…." she groaned, each muscle in her body screaming with stiffness. She buried her head back in her pillow. In her mind's eye, she saw two rippled lines bisected by a horizontal line. _Fluidity._ Like water. Her hand itched to mark her aching muscles.

But the accursed rune on her right forearm would make it so not worth the effort. The wheeled rune encircled only the most basic of runes approved by the Council for her use. If she tried anything outside the wheel, it would feel like she was carving herself with a knife.

Clary sighed. She would have to make do with a healing rune.

The clanking noises from the kitchen indicated that breakfast was afoot. And with Amatis, this might actually be true—one particularly memorable meal crawled off her plate and hid under her napkin. She made excuses to eat with the Lightwoods as much as possible after that incident.

Clary dressed quietly and stealthily pulled on some sneakers. Staying out of sight, she crept out of her room to the kitchen door. Breakfast definitely looked questionable. Vaguely…oatmeal-ish. For a brief moment, Clary thanked the Council for letting her use speed runes.

Making her move, Clary sprang into the kitchen, shouting, "GoingtoseeJaceseeyoutonight!" She blurred past a surprised Amatis, out the door, and into the morning sunshine.

Of course, Clary appreciated Amatis. She just didn't know if Isabelle or Amatis was going cause her a painful death by poisoning.

Amatis kindly offered to take care of Clary during her preliminary studies in Idris while Jocelyn and Luke went back to New York. After her work was finished, Clary was supposed to pick up her studies at the Institute, but of course she went and royally screwed things up. Now the length of Clary's stay hinged upon the despicable Greentree.

Clary was moving so fast on her escape mission that she almost knocked over Jace, who was walking up the path to the house.

"Quick!" Clary hissed, catching his hand. "Breakfast! Run!"

Grinning mischievously, Jace pulled her to a halt, put an arm around her shoulder, and turned her back to the door. "Amatis made us breakfa…?"

Clary clamped her hand over his mouth. "Back away from the door or I will turn you into toast," Clary threatened through clenched teeth.

Jace smiled into her hand. "I am highly edible," he mumbled. His warm breath tickled her fingers.

Clary suppressed a groan. How could someone supposedly so angelic be so diabolical? "Fine. You stay here and enjoy your breakfast." Clary grinned and dashed off into the town, leaving Jace standing dumbfounded in front of the house.

Laughing, Clary shouted over her shoulder, "Or catch me if you can!"

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"You had to know that would end badly." Jace was smiling, and plucking bits of green grass from Clary's hair.

"I thought it went pretty well myself," Clary grumbled. Clary lay with her head on Jace's stomach, and squinted up at the sky as she listened to the rise and fall of his chest.

The chase took them all over the northwestern edge of Idris—through backyards, into chicken coups, over rooftops—and ended with Jace tackling her in a pile of drying laundry. They sprinted away just as a disgruntled homeowner discovered her socks and nightclothes scattered all over the yard.

"For your sake, I hope no one recognized you." Jace gently traced the rune in the crook of her right arm.

Clary sighed. She turned onto her side and looked into his golden eyes. "Do you think these restrictions be over soon?" she asked wistfully. "I mean, I would be learning ten times as much if I were training with you at the Institute."

Jace returned her gaze, looking thoughtful. "I don't know. It's unusual that they would go to such an extreme for a minor case of insubordination. It's unprecedented, actually, as far as I'm aware."

Rolling over and cradling her head in his arms, he looked down into her eyes. "You know what I think?" He began tracing a line under her cheekbone. "I think they're concerned that you're more powerful than anything _human_ they've ever seen before," he mused. "They want you under their control. And they're going to fetter you until they're sure you're not a threat."

Clary scowled, burying her face in his stomach, breathing in the scent of his clothes and skin. "But I'm no use like this! I'm not learning anything! At this rate, I'm on track to becoming some kind of Nephilim lawyer, and I don't think you even _have_ those…"

"All the same. They want you under their thumb. I was worried about this when I tried to keep you from coming to Idris in the first place." Clary felt the rumble of his laugh on her face. "But don't write off your future as a historian. The annuls of the Nephilim are extensive and cover an exquisite tapestry of mmphm mmph..."

Clary shoved Jace's face into the grass, and grabbed her stele. "If I hear one more thing related to Greentree coming from you, I will cut you. You will be as quiet as the Silent Brothers—got it?"

Laughing, Jace quickly unarmed her and pinned her up to his chest with her arms behind her back. Her pulse quickened, but it was lost in the sensation of Jace's heart thundering against her own. "The first thing I'll teach you when we're back in New York is how to break out of a defensive hold."

He tilted his head, his glinting eyes considering his captive. "Or on second thought, maybe not." He kissed her lightly.

Smiling in spite of herself, Clary rotated her shoulder into his chest, leveraging her body away from his so she could break free. The force of it knocked some of the breath out of Jace's chest in a whoosh, who quickly immobilized her again.

Jace laughed. "Not bad, shorty, but not good enough. Who taught you that?"

"WrestleMania VIII. Macho Man Randy Savage versus Hulk Hogan."

"Who?"

"An elite force of fighters who look almost as good in spandex as Shadowhunters."

"What?" Jace looked perplexed.

"Nevermind," Clary shook her head. "You and I have a date with Netflix the second we set foot in New York."

Jace grinned, "Are you asking me out?"

"More like I'm asking you in," she said absentmindedly, now picking at the grass. Jace looked even more puzzled.

Clary pulled up so she could trace the scars on his arms, and quietly changed the topic. "So you're leaving again tonight?" Her fingers continued up his arm to one of the black runes on his bicep and traced the pattern.

Jace's eyes softened. "Yes, but we shouldn't be long. I'll be back before you can miss me."

"Fat chance," Clary muttered under her breath. She hated being left behind. Shouldn't she be able to protect the people she loved?

Suddenly an idea blossomed in Clary's mind. The thought made her breath catch. She looked back at Jace and asked, "But can I help you get ready?"

Jace looked confused. "How do you mean?" Then his eyes flashed. "Are you going to dress me? Those pants are awful tight."

"No!" Clary blushed. "I mean, as appealing as that is…" _I'll burn your clothes before I let you out of the house._ "…I wanted to help you with your runes," she recovered quickly.

"You want to mark me?" Jace looked concerned. "But the Council…"

"Said I couldn't mark myself. I'm thoroughly familiar with Article 4, Section 9, which states that the Confinement rune only applies to marks on one's own skin…"

"Okay, okay," he said, catching her hand and bringing to his lips, "but only if you promise not to maim me, love."

Satisfied, Clary grinned back. She liked it when he called her that. Or maybe she loved it. Whatever.

Picking up her stele, Clary eyed his skin like a blank canvas. Where to begin?

"Shirt off," she commanded imperiously.

Smiling wickedly and without breaking eye contact, Jace lifted his shirt over his head, and discarded it on the grass next to him. Clary stared at him, stunned. Oh God, what had she just gotten herself into?

Jace's voice interrupted her ogling. "Your burning stare isn't making much progress. Perhaps this would help?" He held up the stele that had fallen from her hand.

Clary snatched back the stele with a scowl, and tried to focus her mind on the task at hand.

Clary couldn't think of a time when she wasn't creating art. Sketchbooks, walls, sidewalks, even her own windows had fallen prey to her ravenous pencils and paintbrushes. But she'd never drawn on another person…unless she counted the time when she gave Simon a makeover.

Clary silently chuckled to herself at the memory. Jace looked nothing like a ten-year-old Simon in eyeshadow and lipstick. Jace was, well, God, _Jace_.

And almost without thinking, she began to draw.

Her runes burned black across his golden chest, down his muscular forearms, and over his graceful hands. He lay unmoving until she traced down to his stomach, which flinched when her stele brushed just above his navel. The runes circled and crossed, with vertical lines slashing, circles encompassing, all burning together across his skin.

Almost in a trance, she followed the curve of each muscle and the flat of each plane on his chest. She didn't notice the quickness of her breath, or the nearness of Jace's hand until it was cupping her face, pulling it to his. His golden eyes were dark, and he was breathing unevenly. His eyes searched her for a long moment, and then he drew a quick breath and kissed her.

Clary gasped as their lips touched, because she could _see_ it—the light radiating from Jace, the sun's brilliance, and her own light blinding herself. She could _taste_ it—the gold of Jace's skin, the tang of the grass, the crispness of the breeze. Every nerve in her body sang with the thrum of his heart and the hum of the afternoon.

And as suddenly as the kiss began, they exploded apart. Gasping for breath with his hands on his knees, Jace shook his head as if to clear it. "Wha… Clary what _was_ that? And why are you glowing? Why is…oh _Angel_." Jace looked around in wonder with wide eyes.

Breathless, Clary shook her head and tried to calm her thundering heart. "I… I don't know. I just started marking you and…" Her eyes fell onto his chest. "And…Holy Moses."

"What?" Jace looked around, and finally at himself with a shocked expression. "I don't understand. They're normally black. Why are they silver? And this one golden?" His hands came up to a star encircled by an eye-shaped rune over his heart.

"Angel," Clary whispered, her breath slowing.

Jace's eyebrows shot up. "An Angel's rune? Not meant for Nephilim?"

"No," Clary shook her head. "It's one that only Angels can bear to wear."

Jace looked astounded. "That could have killed me, or maybe turned me into a Forsaken Nephilim. I should be mad, but by the Angel, _look_ at it." His eyes swept the hillside. "It's like the world is on fire. And look at _you_." His eyes returned to hers, ablaze in wonder.

"It will let you see as the Angels see," she said quietly, dropping her eyes back to his chest. "They all look black to me, except this one." Her hand traced the star within the golden iris. "_Sight_."

Jace looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. "Clary, I can barely stand to look at you, you're so _bright_. And Angel, so beautiful." He stroked her hair with such tenderness, as if she were fragile. The complete openness of his expression made Clary's heart race, but also set her nerves on edge. What had she done to him?

Trying to hide her concern, she stood up and pulled Jace to his feet. "Okay loverboy, we need to get you back to Alec and Isabelle before sundown. You have demons to hunt, remember?" She waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention.

To her surprise, Jace smiled good-naturedly and said, "Of course, that sounds like a good idea."

Clary's mouth fell open. Since when was Jace _polite_? Did she cause brain damage?

Concerned, she held up her hand in front of Jace's face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four fingers and one thumb." Jace looked amused.

"What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

"What?"

"Good. I haven't made you omniscient." Clary breathed a sigh of relief.

Jace just smiled at her and took her hand. "Whatever you say."

Clary looked at him sideways. Jace was surprisingly pleasant when he was agreeable. She could get used to this. "If the Angel's vision gives you the Angel's tongue, I may keep you tatted up."

The wicked gleam flashed back into Jace's eyes. "If it's the Angel's tongue you want…"

Clary groaned and rolled her eyes. "I spoke too soon. Let's go."

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**I thought it would be awesome if Clary used Jace as a human canvas, so there it is. I hope you enjoyed :-).**

**Kudos to you folks who caught the Holy Grail and Better Off Dead references. Thanks for your reviews!  
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